


Frozen Flame

by Reyanth



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: Summary inside due to spoilers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: HUGE character death spoiler for anyone who—somehow—hasn’t stumbled across it yet. But then, such a person probably wouldn’t even be reading this, so I think we’re safe on that front. ;)
> 
> Note: The second scene is taken from the anime and internalized. I took the lines straight from my subbed version. (I edited some of the badly phrased English to make a little more sense.)
> 
> Summary: Roy Mustang struggles to come to terms with the death of a man who was once his lover, always his friend, and eternally his beloved. Maes Hughes has one last lingering wish in this world...

Colonel Mustang sat in his office late after hours, sipping a nice, strong cup of hot coffee. Well, not sipping so much as staring into its murky depths and letting the warmth of it seep through his uncovered hands.

He’d finished his paperwork hours ago but just couldn’t seem to make himself leave. The theory was that the longer he procrastinated, the more he thought about leaving instead of what he was trying—and failing—to avoid thinking about.

That was the theory, anyway. Perhaps he was just afraid to leave the safety of his office. It was a place of work, a place where he avoided sentimentality, or most things not involved with the current mission. Unless, of course, there was no current mission—like when he was still sitting alone at his desk at eleven o’clock at night.

Either way, the fault in his theory was that he didn’t need to be thinking about anything to be depressed. And so, he was. Abundantly.

‘Brigadier General’ Hughes was dead, and nothing seemed right. There would be no midnight phone calls about Elysia’s bad dreams, no rambling about her first this or that, or a scrape to her knee. There wouldn’t be any irritatingly cute pictures randomly shoved in his face.

No more stolen glances that caused Mustang to remember everything he’d once had and lost to Glacier.

But there was no point in feeling bitter now. Hughes was dead to Glacier as well, and Elysia was fatherless.

Roy must have been getting tired because he almost felt as though he was going to cry. He blinked, taking several deep breaths, and squeezed his eyes together tightly as images of Hughes flashed in his mind. He placed the coffee down and rubbed at his eyes, insisting to himself that he was just tired, that he needed to go home and sleep… and then, he finally lost the battle. Mustang collapsed over the desk, his head falling into his arms. The coffee cup skidded over polished wood, even as tears rolled down his cheeks.

It felt like he’d been crying for hours, but slowly he wound down, banishing visions of keen golden eyes, a stray lock of fringe, a vivid smile… and then it started all over again until he had no more tears left to shed.

When he finally dried out, Mustang rested his face against the desk, feeling the cool wood against his overheated cheek. He stared at the far wall with blank eyes, wondering how he would continue without his best supporter to lean on.

Even when he lost Hughes as a lover, the man had kept his promise. He’d worked hard and efficiently, his accomplishments inching Mustang closer to the top. Though Hawkeye and the others were still there, it already felt like something was missing.

Mustang had always been aware of Hughes; aware that the man was with him, working by his side, holding him afloat. Now, it felt as though he might sink at any second.

Gradually, his dry eyes grew heavy, closing of their own accord. Sleep was imminent, but still rising like a wave waiting to crash down and drown a stepping stone. Instead of the blissful relief that unawareness brings, memory drifted in; memories of a time well before Hughes had decided he wanted to marry, have children, and be a good, normal husband. A time when Mustang was happy, when he wasn’t alone, when he was in love. No, that wasn’t quite right. He was still in love even hours after the man’s funeral, but back then he’d been allowed to be.

~*~

_Mustang rubbed his eyes tiredly and reluctantly got up to answer the door. He’d been working desperately at trying to solve the puzzle of human transmutation, but when he’d realized what it might mean, he couldn’t do it… he just sat staring at all of his notes, remembering the dying faces of those he’d as good as murdered._

_The door opened to reveal Maes Hughes, and Mustang couldn’t figure out if that was a good or bad thing. The man blinked at him, no doubt taken aback by his disheveled appearance, and then he just flashed that happy grin of his._

_“This is an apple pie I got my girlfriend to bake for you,” he said, and Mustang rolled his eyes. Trust the fool to try and blame someone else. “Want it?”_

_Hell, why not? Apple pie could fix everything, right? Mustang felt a small smile creep over his face. Trust Hughes to make the world seem like a better place._

_However, when they went inside the apartment, he couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed. Though it had only been a brief fling before the war, he really did have feelings for Hughes, and he was embarrassed to let the man see what he’d been doing._ _It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on if one took a_ _good look at the papers on his desk, the transmutation circles, and the buckets full of blood._

_“Roy…”_

_Mustang smiled a little sadistically_ _._ _He was almost proud that Hughes had figured it out so fast. “It’s just as you see. It’s what they call a taboo.” He’d expected the angry reaction_ _; the hand twisted in his shirt collar, almost lifting him from the floor._

_“I don’t understand alchemy… But there is one thing that I know! Those who commit a taboo…” Hughes trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, and eventually let go of his commanding officer._

_“Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything,” Mustang told him, brushing away the shaking hand and closing his eyes in shame._

_“But you were going to.”_

_Yes, he was going to… “A lot of people died. I mean, I killed a lot of people.” He tried to keep his tone light but there was a slight tremble to his voice. He could never completely hide the misery he felt_ _; the agony of his own deeds._

_“It was a war,” Hughes insisted, his brow furrowed._

_Mustang turned his head aside, unable to meet the eyes of a man who hadn’t been tainted by murder. “You weren’t there.”_

_“That’s right,” agreed Hughes, his voice colder than before. “If you didn’t want to kill anyone… You should’ve requested a desk job, like me! Did you think that it would help if you became a State Alchemist and revived the dead?!”_

_“I don’t know…”_

_Of course, he deserved what he got for such a careless answer. The pain as Hughes’ fist connected with his jaw almost made him smile._

_“Is a taboo so easy commit that it takes such a small amount of study?” the man asked coldly as Mustang rubbed his jaw. “Or did you want to die? If that’s the case, there is an easier way to do that.”_

_Despite himself, Mustang really was hurt by those words._

_“I couldn’t try it because I was afraid of dying,” he admitted, ashamed of his cowardice._

_“Of course.” Hughes softened a little, seeming to already regret his words._

_But Mustang still needed a little more reassurance. “That’s the kind of person I am.”_

_“Everyone is like that!” How sweet_ _; Hughes was defending him_ _now._

_It was time to confess what was really on his mind_ _: “But… even a life like mine will have some use,” he said, gathering his wil_ _l. “Maes, I’ve decided… I’m going to become Fuhrer! I will change how this country runs. That is the only thing I can do.”_

_In typical fashion, the tension suddenly drained from Hughes and he sat on the nearest chair, taking a piece of the apple pie. “To do that, you’ll need someone who understands and supports you.” He took a bite of the confection. “I’ll work under you, and push you upwards.” He said it so lightly, as if it wasn’t the single most important thing anyone would ever say in Mustang’s life, and then smiled that goofy little smile._

_How could anyone not fall for that?_

~*~

Yes, that was the moment Mustang had fallen in love. It didn’t take much to strike a relationship from that point.

They’d been together before, but that was only one night; the type of one night stand a man has before he goes out to war. Only, the war was one sided. There wasn’t really much chance of dying. The sex had been more for comfort than a possible last encounter.

After the war—after the foolish dabbling in human transmutation—that was when it really began. When Hughes held him close after a nightmare of charred bodies and pleading, outstretched hands. Every moment he spent with the other man became a moment of healing, a moment in which he could relax and forget, for just a little while, the pain and suffering he had caused.

~*~

_Mustang fell onto the bed, the mattress creaking in protest. His hands were pinned above his head and Hughes’ weight pressed down on his body._

_He’d just come out of the shower to be surprised by his friend and lover waiting in his bedroom. The man had pounced on him, his clothes sliding over Mustang’s skin, scratchy and rough._

_“Get… undressed,” Mustang managed to pant, even as his naked flesh was assaulted by talented hands and lips._

_Hughes ignored him, flicking his tongue back and forth over one nipple, causing the bud to roll under his ministrations. Then he pulled away, rubbing his callused fingers over the sensitive nub, a complete contrast from the hot, silken feel of his mouth._

_The actions sent a hundred tiny sparks to Mustang’s groin and he stretched out beneath Hughes, letting his bare skin rub against the harsh cloth of a pristine military uniform._

_“Why do you tease me this way?” he moaned._

_“Someone needs to keep you on your toes,” Hughes answered. “I did promise to push you to the top, sir.”_

_“You also promised to serve under me,” Mustang growled, taking control lest he lose the rare opportunity. He rolled, using his legs to pin Hughes beneath him._

~*~

“Dammit!” Mustang yelled, jumping up and lashing out at the unfortunate contents of his desk. The coffee cup smashed to the floor, the cold liquid splashing loudly.

Flexing his hands into fists and grinding his teeth, Mustang stilled the urge to swear again. To do so would be to admit defeat and a loss of control. He would not do that. He would not…

“Shit.”

All of a sudden, his knees felt weak and he slowly sank to the floor, trembling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he control himself? Why couldn’t he forget?

Then again, he didn’t want to. It hurt that he’d been shoved aside for a nice, pretty little housewife. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to lose the memory of Hughes’ lips and hands, his honesty, or his devotion. He suspected that the only thing worse than being hurt was to be numb. Without the memory of his one and only love, Mustang would become frozen, his internal flame flickering out to die. He didn’t want that. At least the pain meant that he could still feel, and hold onto the reminiscence of what it felt like to be loved and cherished.

~*~

_Hughes licked Mustang’s ear, always playful after a good fuck. “I have a report on that chimera,” the man mumbled, tracing a pattern over Mustang’s chest. “Took a lot of digging, but I finally found the missing links.”_

_Eyes narrowed, Mustang pulled away, glaring at the insolent grin he received. “Illegal digging, you mean.”_

_Shrugging, Hughes trailed a finger down the lieutenant’s side. “It was easy.”_

_“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Mustang growled, catching the hand before it could travel across his abdomen. “For one thing, you’re the best I have.”_

_“And for the other, Roy?” Hughes asked quietly, the familiar lazy gaze hiding a gleam of intensity in his golden eyes._

_“For the other… I…” Mustang swallowed. Moments like these were so rare and he didn’t quite know how to handle them. “I…”_ _But the moment was gone. Hughes had moved on, giving up on hearing the words he’d been hoping for and returning his attention to the lieutenant’s chest, playfully worrying a small patch of skin between his teeth._

~*~

Mustang fell forward, banging his fist on the floor, and then rocked back up, throwing his head back to stare angrily up at the ceiling. “I love you!” he cried. “You can’t die, you bastard! I love you! I…”

He was raging through a disturbing range of psychological states and he knew it. Most prominent on the list was denial. He still couldn’t accept that Hughes was dead even after seeing the coffin lowered into the ground, the grave covered in flowers. It just didn’t feel like reality. It couldn’t be true.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, neither to himself nor on the hope that Hughes’ spirit could hear him. It just needed to be said. “I should have told you, and then you wouldn’t have left me.”

But he would have. He had wanted children, wanted a wife, a family home. And he still would have died: for Roy Mustang, the man he’d loved.

That was what hurt the most. Hughes really did love him, and yet he’d loved his ideal of family life more. He’d loved his job more. Not his life, though. His life he’d laid on the line for the sake of all he’d loved.

It just wasn’t fair.

That pathetic, sulky thought forced a weak laugh from Mustang. “It’s not fair,”’ he muttered acidly. “Nothing’s fucking fair. Nothing ever will be.”

Slowly coming back to himself, he stood, still a little weak. He couldn’t help but feel disgusted with himself. He’d lost plenty of soldiers before, and plenty of friends. Nothing had ever affected him this way

“Damn you, Hughes,” he spat, and then mentally kicked himself for the bitter thought.

Rubbing his closed eyelids, he sighed heavily, trying to gather himself together. The first thing he had to do was to clean up the mess, so he headed for the nearest bathroom, grabbed a spare washcloth, and took it back to his office to mop up the spill.

Then, he fixed the cup, transmuting the pieces back into a whole. Belatedly, he realized that this was the mug Hues had given him for his promotion to colonel, and almost dropped it again.

He had to get ahold of himself before someone saw him that way. It wasn’t healthy, and he knew he should probably seek help, but his pride simply wouldn’t allow it. Besides, he still had a lot to do, and if he was going to find Hughes’ murderers he had to be considered fit to work, even if he wasn’t. No-one could be allowed see how shaken he was.

~*~

_Hughes stared at the floor, still clutching Mustang’s hand but avoiding the lieutenant’s gaze. “I… I met her during my last mission. She’s sweet and kind, but she has a backbone. You’d like her.”_

_Mustang tried to pull his hand away but Hughes wouldn’t let him. Sad golden eyes rose to meet his own. “I want a child, Roy,” the man whispered desperately, his eyes pained and watery. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”_

_This time, Mustang used all_ _of his strength to wrench his hand free, clutching it to his chest as though burnt. He turned his back on the man who was currently breaking his heart and prayed that Hughes hadn’t seen his forming tears._

_“I’m sorry.” The honest whisper caused a tremor to trickle down his spine, calmed by the arms that encircled him from behind. Silent tears ran down Mustang’s cheeks and he caught his lower lip between his teeth to hold back threatening sobs._

_“I love you,” Hughes whispered. “I do, but I know I’ll never hear those words from you. Perhaps I will from my child.”_

_Desperately, Mustang thought_ _, I love you, I love you, I love you_ _, over and over in his mind but he couldn’t force the words through his constricted throat. He thought so hard that it almost felt as though he’d said them aloud_ _. He couldn’t have,_ _though, for tears still streamed over his sealed and trembling lips._

_“I’ll never ask you to forgive me.” Hughes kissed away the pool of tears at Mustang’s neck. “But please understand. If you understand, then I can try to live normally.”_

_Unable to say a word, Mustang simply nodded, turning to kiss his lover for the last time, the sobs finally slipping free, choking him as he cried into Hughes’ arms._

_“I’ll always be here for you,” he heard, breathed against his ear._

~*~

Feeling absolutely exhausted, Mustang wiped the remnants of tears from his face and went back to the bathroom to wash away the salt. He looked into the mirror, rivulets of water streaming down his nose and cheeks.

He’d never make it home in such a state; it looked as though he’d have to stay the night in a spare dorm.

With a sigh, Mustang began to loosen his uniform as he headed down corridor after corridor until he finally reached an open room. Flopping down onto the bed, he barely remembered throwing his shirt onto the floor and pulling the cover over himself before he slipped into sleep.

It could have been minutes or hours later but he was woken by a whisper of breath. A tuft of hair tickled his neck, causing him to stir, but he didn’t truly wake until lips pressed against his throat, followed briefly by the tip of a tongue.

His first reaction wasn’t to wish he had worn his gloves or kept them with him; it wasn’t to reach for his nearby gun or to warn off the intruder. His instantaneous reaction was to turn his face and intercept the touch, turning it into a kiss.

That familiar mouth brushed against his own, teasing his lips, grazing them lightly. It was an action he recognized, even after years of living with only the memory.

“Hughes,” he whispered, letting his mouth fall open to invite in the tongue that was neither cold, nor still, but alive and passionate.

Finally, he opened his eyes to confirm what every other sense was screaming.

“Hello, colonel.”

He didn’t have time to reply, because his mouth was taken again and a comfortable weight shifted on top of him, pinning him to the bed. The kiss progressed, and very soon, he found himself naked and susceptible to exploitation.

Every touch, every breath, every lick and nibble, they all burned. His naked torso was manipulated by expert hands that knew every pleasurable inch of his body. His inner thighs were caressed in the most fleeting of touches, his nipples aggravated and then soothed. The result left him with no doubt that Hughes was every bit real.

Nuzzling the man’s cheek, Mustang took a deep breath, inhaling the scent that had made him giddy for the last several years. He closed his eyes to ward against further tears.

“I don’t know how or why,” he breathed. “Nor do I care. You’re here and that’s all that matters. I have the chance to say what I should have done a long time ago. I-”

“Shhh.” A finger pressed against his lips. “You don’t have to say it. I know.” The finger was replaced by a gentle kiss, against which Mustang shook his head and pulled away.

“You’re wrong. I do have to say it, or I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” He smiled, running his hands through short, dark hair. “Brigadier General Maes Hughes… I love you.”

Hues’ eyes closed tightly, but one tear slipped out to fall down his cheek and land on Mustang’s nose. Then, his eyes opened, and he smiled, leaning down for another long, deep kiss.

When they broke apart, Hughes brushed a hand over the colonel’s cheek. “This is the last time we can be together,” he said. “Let’s make good use of it.”

For some reason, Mustang realized that he was reluctant. It seemed sad to him that their last encounter should be one of lust and not love.

But, of course, Hughes always had known what was on his mind. “I want to leave you with a recent memory. Words and sentiment only go so far, but the body remembers what the heart may not. Besides-” He grinned wickedly, skimming a hand across the colonel’s abdomen. “Here we are, you and I, with nothing to stand between us. You wouldn’t begrudge my last wish, would you?”

“Your last wish is to be with me?” Mustang asked skeptically, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat that rose further with each stroke over his skin.

Hughes nodded almost imperceptibly, hovering inches from Mustang’s flushed face. “I always wish to be with you, but I couldn’t do that to Elysia. Now, there is nothing holding me back. My daughter will grow into this world without me but I have the satisfaction of knowing I got her there. I’m free of all my mortal wishes and dreams, except for one. I want you one last time, and then I can move on properly.”

Mustang’s breath caught in his throat as Hughes’ lips pressed against that little spot on his throat that made his heart flutter. The time for talk was over. He brought his hands up around his lover’s waist, pressing his own body upwards and rubbing his hardness against the man’s thigh.

As he did so, Hughes pressed a finger into his mouth and then drew it away slick with saliva. He slipped it beneath Mustang’s raised body to press against his ass before sliding inside the tight entrance.

The colonel sighed deeply, still rocking gently against the man’s leg. He always loved this part of sex with Hughes. Expert fingers had never failed to find that sweet spot deep inside of him that sent tingles throughout his body.

As he was slowly stretched and prepared, Mustang couldn’t help remembering the first time they had slept together. He’d never been with anyone before, let alone a man, but Hues had drawn him like a moth to a flame. He’d promised it would be okay, that it wouldn’t hurt. And it didn’t. It had felt good, oh so good. Ever since he felt the first sparks of pleasure from inside his body, he’d never looked back. Hughes had kept his promise. Yet, it all seemed so long ago.

And it was. So many things changed over time; promotions, battles, wives, children, death. Anything could happen, and anything had.

How sadistic to remind himself that Hughes was dead just as the man pressed into his body. But it didn’t matter. Dragging his mind back to that very moment then and there, Mustang forced his eyes open to watch every expression on his lover’s face. He didn’t want to miss a moment of their unexpected final encounter. He could think about it later.

Finally smiling, Mustang arched into every form of contact there was. He entwined his fingers in Hughes’, hands pinned above his head. His legs wrapped around the man’s torso, grinding his erection between their bodies. His chest pressed flush against his lover’s, and every movement sent thrills down his spine. Inside of him, Hues thrust in and out in a perpetual rhythm that sent his body into a frenzy along with his mind.

Over and over again he stared over the rim of the precipice to be pulled back at the last moment. Over and over again he screamed, whimpered, and moaned. Over and over again he gasped at the bright intensity in his lover’s eyes. Over and over again, he loved this man with all of his heart.

One final slam sent him careening over the edge. He felt all of the pressure that had built inside of him explode, peaking so hard that a new wave of tears were forced from his tired eyes. The last thing he saw before oblivion claimed his weary soul was a smiling face which grayed out to golden eyes peering down at him through a fog of time and space.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

It may indeed have been only a thought or even a dream… Either way, he knew Hughes had heard his final heartfelt message.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a long, long time ago and posted on an alternate account at AFF.net. It received a lot of glowing reviews over the years but as I forgot the details, I grew skeptical that I had earned such praise. However, re-watching the show and re-reading this fic recently, I realized that at the very least, I was able to give closure to some people who were as heartbroken as I at the death of this character. I hope that everyone who reads it from now on can experience the same.


End file.
